


Toast and Jam

by sevenlbs



Series: Second Breakfast [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Banter, Belly Kink, Established Relationship, Fatlock, Fluff, M/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenlbs/pseuds/sevenlbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little sequel to Eggs on Toast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast and Jam

“Have you left that couch today?” John says, hanging up his coat on the back of the door.

“Of course,” Sherlock says. “Needed breakfast. And lunch.”

John glances at the kitchen, where a pile of dishes fills the sink. A plate of toast and jam is still out on the counter. He smirks. “Of course.”

Sherlock stretches lazily. “Lestrade is useless.”

“No cases?”

“No-pe,” Sherlock replies, popping the “P.”

“No cold case files?" 

Sherlock sighs. "Solved them.”

“Would’ve thought you’d be crawling the walls,” John says, smiling to himself.

Lately, it seems Sherlock’s newfound appreciation for food has had a few pleasant side effects. One of which is the increasingly prominent belly poking up under Sherlock’s dressing gown. And another of which is that Sherlock no longer seems to mind a day of lounging around the flat. The two things seem to go hand in hand.

Sherlock folds his hands over the swell of his stomach, and John raises an eyebrow. There’s no denying it – Sherlock’s put on even more weight recently. Even while lying flat, his stomach rounds upward; his hips look wider, a soft lip of pudge straining the waistband of his pyjamas. And the last time Sherlock had on his trousers, John was certain he was about to rip a seam.

“Mm, no,” Sherlock says. “There was something on the telly.”

“Ah,” John says, and grins. “Up for Angelo’s tonight?”

Sherlock sits up and stretches again, his t-shirt riding up to expose an expanse of pale flesh. There’s something decadent about the way the extra weight has settled on Sherlock, and as he stands up, John wants nothing more than to get his hands on that generous belly, those plush hips, the newly rounded swell of Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock smiles as John steps closer.

“Maybe,” Sherlock says. “Although perhaps I should skip it.”

“Not hungry?”

Sherlock pats his middle, which gives a definite jiggle. “Getting fat,” he grumbles.

John chuckles. 

“Not disagreeing with me, I see,” Sherlock adds.

“No, I’d say that’s accurate.” John grins. “I just happen to like it.”

“I keep telling you, that’s absurd,” Sherlock says, but smirks nonetheless.

“You know I do.” John prods Sherlock’s belly. “And I like you lounging around the house. Getting a bit lazy, too, I think.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, but blushes. “Ridiculous.”

“Of course, if you want to lose some weight, I’ll try not to get in your way,” John amends innocently.

“Perhaps,” Sherlock says, and then shuts his eyes as John runs a finger along the edge of his waistband. “O-or, perhaps next week. I can – _oh!_ oh, _John_.”

“I do think you need to lose these, though,” John murmurs, pulling at Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms insistently. 

“Yes,” Sherlock agrees, his eyes closed.

John nuzzles Sherlock’s ear. “Don’t bother putting them back on again, either. They’re a bit small.”

“Shut up.”

“Not saying anything.”

“Mmm.” Sherlock groans with pleasure as John’s hands tug down the too-small pyjamas. “Angelo’s after?”

John laughs. “Absolutely.”


End file.
